


Pay Up

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Star Trek - Freeform, Star Wars - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7918924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer and the Reader make a bet that one can drive the other crazy by week's end. Who will win?</p><p>Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pay Up

“There is absolutely no way I’ll ever surrender, Y/N!” Spence said, crossing his hands over his chest.

You insisted that you could drive him crazy with the smallest of gestures. You didn’t need sex to drive him insane. He was going down.

You decided to raise the stakes. “I bet you that I can get you to wave the white flag in a week,” you said, mirroring his stance, with your hands across your chest.

The look of disbelief in his eyes made you all the more determined. “What do I get if I win?” he said, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

You rubbed your chin between your thumb and forefinger, deep in thought, “How about, if you win, I’ll get a shirt made that says ‘Star Trek is better than Star Wars’ and wear it for a week,” his eyes widened, “but if I win, I’ll have a shirt made for you that says ‘Star Wars is better than Star Trek’ and you have to wear it for a week?”

You knew you had him. You were both geeks; you both loved Star Wars and Star Trek, but he insisted Star Trek was better and you insisted Star Wars was better.

“Y/N,” he smirked, “you absolutely have yourself a deal. Prepare to lose.”

——————————–

The next day was Sunday, so you both had off from work. Thankfully, you hadn’t been called in for a case. You had decided the night before to have breakfast in bed the next day, so while Spence was sleeping in, you got up and went to make breakfast. Eggs, bacon and toast with coffee to drink. As you put the salt and pepper shakers on the tray, about to walk inside to wake your boyfriend, you had an idea. He loved sugar. He loved salt. But he hated mixing sweet and savory. That’s why he couldn’t stand chocolate-covered pretzels. He was a weird one; but that’s why you loved him. Before going inside, you poured the salt out of the salt shaker and replaced it with sugar, hoping he’d pour it on his eggs without noticing. You put salt in the sugar container for good measure. You also decided to change your clothes. Instead of the sweatpants and tank top you had fallen asleep in, you changed into the same boy shorts and flannel shirt, his shirt, that drove him nuts. Just a little icing on the cake.

Newly changed and ready to get him to bow to your almighty power, you headed inside to wake him up.

“Breakfast is ready, babe,” you whispered softly. “Time to wake up.” 

He tossed and turned, stretching out and pushing himself up on the bed. He leaned over to give you a kiss, “Thanks, Y/N, this looks delicious.” His eyes were barely open, as he hadn’t had his coffee yet, and he put “sugar” in his coffee and “salt” on his eggs without even looking. 

Yessssss. You thought to yourself, placing a fried egg and two slices of bacon on one of your toast pieces. The sandwich method was the best way to eat it. You slowly sipped your coffee as he lifted his own to his lips, taking a small sip. Nothing. He probably hasn’t tasted it yet. He breaks off a piece of egg and brings it to his mouth. After chewing twice, he practically gags, immediately swigging down half of his coffee, trying to wash out the taste.

“Oh, it’s on, Y/N!” he avowed, taking the napkin to his tongue, desperately wanting to be rid of the taste in his mouth. “That was low, messing with my breakfast.”

You snorted. “Bring it, baby!”

——————————–

Throughout the rest of the week, you both did your damnedest to drive the other crazy. He messed with your alarm for work, making you late. You hated being late. You volleyed back with messing with the folders on his desk and slightly changing the height of his chair. Just enough that it would mess with him, but not so much that he would notice immediately.

When he finally figured out that you’d screwed around with his chair, he just took his forefinger and middle finger, pointing them at his own eyes and then at you. Hotch just shook his head, smiling at your absurdity. The rest of the team seemed to have a pool going on who would cave first.

Emily just looked at Reid, “Reid, you know you’re going down right? Pretty much everyone thinks you’ll be the one to cave.”

His mouth dropped open, feigning hurt, “I’m going to prove you all wrong. And whoever had money on me, be prepared to win big, because it’s happening. Why do all of you think Y/N will win, anyway?”

Derek turned around in his chair, “Easy, Pretty Boy, I think she’s gonna win, because at the end of the day, all she has to do is look at you in that sickly sweet way she does, and you turn into putty. It’s been that way since day one.”

JJ and Emily just laughed and nodded their heads. Hotch leaned out of his office and pointed at Reid, “You’re definitely going to lose.”

“That means that either Rossi or Garcia thinks I’ll win.” Spencer said, combing his hands through his hair. “Well, tomorrow we’ll know.

“Yea, that I’m gonna win,” you said pumping your hands in the air.

————————————–

After a long week at work, the team decided to go out for dinner on Saturday, the last night of your bet with Spence. You wore a pair of leather pants with a suede strip down the sides and a red off-the-shoulder top with your trademarked converse. Everyone sat down at the table and placed their orders when Spence rested his hand on your back. Oh, you knew where this was going, but anything you could do would be too dirty to do in front of the rest of the team.

Before the appetizers came, Spence followed the length of your spine up to your head and began massaging your scalp. Oh no. It was the little touches that drove you nuts. He knew that; and he was continuing on as if this wasn’t his master plan all along. Sexy bastard.

The entrees arrived and between bites of food and laughing with your family, Spencer’s hand glided down to the small of your back. He finished up his meal and began applying the slightest amount of pressure to the dimple at the base of your spine. Fuck. You were beginning to squirm. Through your peripherals you could see the slightest smirk beginning to form on his face.

It was that touch, that slight pressure that drove you wild. The chills started traveling up your spine and you couldn’t form words anymore. All you could focus on was the glorious sensation he was creating. The team’s voices melded together and the pressure intensified in the best way.

“I give!” you blurted out. “I give up, you win, but for the love of God stop what you’re doing, it’s driving me nuts.”

Spencer’s hands raised in victory. “As I said, I win.” He leaned back in his chair with a smug smile on his face. “So who had money on me?”

Garcia just smiled wide, “That’d be me! Pay up, everyone!”

As everyone reached into their wallets to settle the bet with Garcia, you just stared at her open-mouthed. “Garcia, you bet against me? How could you?” You weren’t actually hurt, just surprised. Garcia was probably your best friend, other than Spence of course.

“I remember you telling me about that thing he does to your back that drives you crazy and I figured he’d resort to that to get what he wanted,” she said laughing. 

“The glory of the win,” you said, as you looked toward your boyfriend. Even with his smug little smile and cocky posture, you couldn’t remain made at him. But wearing that shirt was going to suck.

Derek just stared at Spencer, confused, which only made Spencer smile wider. “That’s not fair! Babygirl had insider information!”

“You’re outta luck, Derek,” you said, burying your head in your hands. “And so am I, I can’t believe I have to wear a shirt proclaiming Star Trek is better than Star Wars.”

Spencer’s smile couldn’t possibly get any bigger.


End file.
